Like a Panic Attack
by Kenxi
Summary: It was the Nogitsune that had killed and hurt people with his hands—not Stiles himself. He knew that. He knew it and it didn't make anything easier in the slightest. Even now that he was in control of his body again, there was nothing he could do. Two moments when Scott was there for Stiles and Stiles was there for Scott.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Just finished the last of Teen Wolf and so I thought I'd add a little something to the end of 3B. Is it just me or did it feel a bit fast the way it ended? Anyway, enjoy! This takes place after the defeat of the Nogitsune, just after Lydia sees that Aiden is dead. Please review. That would make me so happy. Or send a PM. Either way.

**-Kenxi :D**

One second she was hugging him fiercely, nearly knocking him over in his weak state, the next she was gone, running toward the dead boy she had loved.

Stiles wrapped his arms around himself as if he could somehow get warm against the cold chill in the air. Not that it did much; he was still freezing as he had been the past few days. Of course, that probably had something more to do with the whole being possessed than the weather.

He let out a slow, shaky breath.

Reaching out with one hand he grabbed the metal rail next the school steps and found himself grasping it as if his life depended on it. Using the support of it (he no longer had his strawberry blonde crush to help him out) he lowered himself down onto the last few steps, watching Lydia as she sobbed over Aiden. Perhaps the tears were for Allison as well.

A sudden tightness gripped his chest—something he knew all too well to be a sign of a panic attack. But, even as he increased the strength of his hold on the cold metal bar with both hands, he knew that this was not the case. For it was not fear, but grief, that struck him, making it somewhat difficult to breathe.

Just like a panic attack.

Somewhere, in the back of his consciousness, he was aware of Kira and Isaac making their way past him and over to where Lydia and—and Aiden were. At least they had the heart to let him be. He also somewhat noticed that Scott had not joined them, but didn't really care at the moment.

He gasped at the emotional agony in his body, quickly leaning forward so as to press his head against the rail, right in between the spaces being occupied by his hands. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, hardly registering the tears freefalling from his eyes.

"If there is a God in heaven, please just let me die. Don't take away those others I killed, take me instead. I can't—"

Stiles broke off his whispered plea. It seemed silly, in a way, to be thinking about God after all of the supernatural things they had just gone through. But then again, his mom had believed in God. Couldn't he too, at least?

He squeezed his hands harder against the bar they held, as if doing so would tether him down into actual reality. Because this couldn't be real. This was all _too painful_ to be real. Nothing should hurt this much. For the first time in Stiles' life, it was the facts that he couldn't seem to comprehend, the fantasy being what he actually wanted to hold onto. But, as always, Stiles knew the truth, no matter how hard he wanted it to be something else.

Allison.

Aiden.

Dead.

Because of _him_.

He cracked one eye open to look at his hand next to his face. It was the Nogitsune that had killed and hurt people with his hands—not Stiles himself. He knew that. He knew it and it didn't make anything easier in the slightest. If anything, it made it even more difficult. To know that it was his face that had hurled innocent people into their deaths. People he loved. People who were loved by _somebody_. And he couldn't control anything. No, the sick, twisted demon inside him made him _watch_. It fed off of the pain like a normal human fed off of chocolate. And Stiles, one of few humans even a part of this supernatural crap, was too weak to even do anything about it. Even now that he was in control of his body again, there was nothing he could do.

The grief was not lessening one bit, perhaps it was even escalating, but at least the effects of it were slowly easing. Stiles could feel his breathing levelling once again, the iron fist around his chest slowly unwrapping itself. It was as if he had come to accept the reality of things to a point where he had given up on trying to push them away. Control was overrated, it would seem.

The slight feeling of a hand on his shoulder yanked him from his thoughts so quickly, he actually flinched. Turning his head, he saw Scott behind him, surprisingly with no sign of tears in his eyes. Albeit, the pain was still there, strong to a point of being near tangible.

"Stiles," Scott said, voice steady, "we're going to be okay. It definitely doesn't seem like it now... but we will be. I know it."

If he hadn't been just about to break right then, Stiles might have actually laughed out loud. _Spoken like a true True Alpha_. All the same, a mirthless snort still elicited from him.

"I just got Allison killed, Scott," Stiles stated flatly. He found himself voicing his blunt thoughts for the first time almost as strong as Scott was his. If, of course, those had truly been his thoughts. He looked Scott firmly in the eye and wiped a hand over his tear streaked face as he continued, ignoring the expression of his friend. "Allison and Aiden. So many people are dead and hurt because of me. Yeah, I mean, it wasn't really _me_, so to speak, but..." Any sense of normality in his words disappeared, leaving the hoarse whisper of the horrific truth audible in his voice. "It was still me."

Stiles broke away from Scott's gaze. He had said what he wanted to—he wasn't going to watch the intense pain on his friend's face any longer than need be. His mind was just as fragile as his body at this point; that expression would simply be too much to handle. Instead he continued to focus on Lydia once again. Her sobs had eased a bit as the reality of things began settling in.

He knew how that felt.

The hand on his shoulder gripped him tighter—Stiles had forgotten it was even there, to be honest. But even as he felt Scott join him on the cement stairs, Stiles refused to turn his face away from physical proof of the pain he had caused.

"Yeah, it was your face that killed people, man. But that has nothing to do with you. Even if you hadn't been possessed by the Nogitsune, it still would have found another host and killed those people, just the same."

"You don't get it, Scott." Stiles could see Chris Argent trying to soothe Lydia, and her not responding at all to it. He hastily wiped away the tears that escaped his eyes once more. "It couldn't possess one of you guys because none of you are human. I'm the human one. _Me_. I'm the background, comedic, weak, unimportant, utterly human part of this pack, and because of that, it chose me. My face was far more influential than just another regular human. It was toying with you—all of you. And that's on me for the rest of my life. That's what you just don't get, Scott. And you never will."

There was clearly no encouraging words left to say that hadn't already been said or implied. Stiles was smart, he already knew all of the crap people were believing so that they wouldn't fall apart. Stiles, however, had already fallen apart. Again, control was so overrated. He was gonna believe whatever the heck the truth was.

And so, with nothing left to say, Scott let out a sigh and just stayed there next to Stiles on the cold stairs. Two best friends, broken friends, with a tie between them stronger than anything, sat together in silence while they all mourned for the lost lives.

For now, it was all they could do.

For now, it was enough.

**A/N:** I felt that Teen wolf was missing a little something with Stiles and the show's best bromance. Hopefully this was okay—not too choppy. :D I am thinking about putting another something like this as another chapter concerning Scott after the whole Beserker thing at the end of the fourth season. Let me know what you think! Please review! Tell me your thoughts, feelings…confessions of love. Anything. Thanks mucho!

**-Kenxi**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Second part in my two-shot, takes place at the end of season four. Enjoy!

-**Kenxi**

It took nearly a full minute for the reality of things to settle in.

The process wasn't a sudden epiphany of realization, but a numbing, slow one. It reminded Scott of the way the sun set—the light ever so slowly diminishing into nothingness before going completely dark. And now, things had gone suddenly very dark indeed.

While staring at the ground, trying to run through what had just happened exactly, he could hear Stiles telling the others something about giving him a moment alone. Scott could sense his brother beside him, following his gaze to the floor where Peter was.

"I was going to kill Liam, Stiles. I nearly killed Kira…" Scott faltered, unable to go in that direction of conversation. "It was like it was me doing it, and I wanted to do it, but at the same time it was a completely different person. Like it wasn't…" Again, he trailed off. Really, there wasn't much he felt he could talk about at this point. If he talked about it, if he said the words, then it would make it real. He just wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Next to him, he could see Stiles nod as if in understanding. "Like it wasn't you at all," he finished softly. Scott finally pulled himself out of his stupor enough to shoot a look at him in surprise. Stiles was still staring at the ground, a pained look in his dark eyes. "Like you were suddenly beyond powerful and there was nothing you couldn't do. Like you enjoyed it. Even though it wasn't really you."

Scott blinked at him, stunned. How was it that he seemed to know so well as to what had happened? Why did _Stiles_, of all people—

Oh. _Of course_.

Stiles, of all people, had been chosen to be the victim of the possession of the Nogitsune. Of course Stiles would understand. Nearly the same thing had happened to him. Scott looked away again, feeling a sudden, terrible pain in his heart. Stiles had once told him that Scott would never understand what the Nogitsune had done to him, what it had made him do to others. And now, Scott did understand. And the pain of it was too much. How on earth had Stiles borne his pain at all?

Scott felt his knees go cold and then he was on the ground, gasping at the awful horror of it all. He was kneeling, his hands out on the cement in front of him, trying to catch his breath. He could feel the tears sting his eyes, but none fell. Stiles was immediately there with him, one hand on his chest, the other on his back, holding him to his sanity.

He had only ever had one panic attack before, and that time Stiles had also been with him. Stiles was always there for him. He had always been there for him. Scott sucked in another breath. What if Stiles had died? What if Scott had killed him? The thought almost caused him physical pain. Stiles was his brother, his best friend.

"Hey, take it easy, Scott, we're okay. We are all okay." The way he says the words takes him back to when the Nogitsune had finally been killed and Stiles had woken up after passing out. He had asked him if they were all okay. And now here he was telling them that they were. His breathing eased, the tight feeling in his chest lessening. Everyone was okay. Well, the ones that mattered.

Scott fell back against a broken column, feeling exhausted. "That was some panic attack, huh?" He huffed out a breath and slumped even more against the hard rock.

Stiles eyed him. "That wasn't a panic attack, Scott."

He wasn't the least bit surprised; he had been pretty sure of that, too. It wasn't like he had been about to pass out from not breathing enough. The feeling wasn't the same as the one time he had actually had one. This was so much worse. It was like he had been about to be crushed from the grief of it all, of what he had done. Panic attacks were more physically demanding. But this, this sudden feeling of the truth being manifested to him was harsh and painful and, even though it was far more mentally damaging, it still seemed to take the breath right from his lungs.

Kind of like a panic attack.

So he just nodded and fell back to staring at the floor again, like it was his default or something. The two of them just sat there in silence for a minute, neither of them having to say anything.

Scott finally broke the quiet with his voice. "How did you do it, Stiles? How did you move on from what you'd done?"

For a moment, his friend said nothing. Scott was afraid he had just blown the dust off of painful memories, but then, "I don't think I really did. I don't think I ever will, not really. That kinda thing stays with you forever, you know?" Stiles stared at his hands with a strange expression on his face, like he was thinking about what the Nogitsune had used them for. "We can't change the past, Scott. We can't just make it go away—make it better, somehow. But over the course of time I've had to learn that even though we can't take away those things from the past, we can still choose our path for the future. We still have our freedom of choice and we can use that for good instead of doing nothing." By the end it seemed like Stiles was telling himself these things just as much as he was Scott.

He stared at Stiles in awe. When had his best friend become so wise? Sure, he'd always been smart, but this was so much deeper, so much more raw than just smarts. This was faith, not fact. Maybe that was the difference between being wise and just smart.

Again, they lapsed into silence. Then Scott slowly pulled himself to his feet, holding a hand out to his brother. Stiles looked up at him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows on his face that reminded Scott of when he'd been possessed by the Nogitsune. But the pain in his eyes was so real that it diminished all resemblance with the trickster, leaving his invaluable friend behind.

Stiles took his hand after a second, and then the two just watched each other for a moment.

"How's your head?" Scott asked, noticing the bruising on his face that _he_ had caused.

Stiles reached up to gingerly to touch the side of his face that Berserker Scott had wacked. "It's fine. Barely hit me." He let a small smile pass his lips, even though Scott remembered well just how hard he had smashed his "fist" into Stiles' face. Still, mentioning it would only make Stiles feel bad for Scott feeling bad, he knew, so he let it pass and together they began walking towards the way out of that horrible cave of nightmares.

Just as they were nearing the exit, Scott stopped Stiles and turned to face him. "Look," he said, "I know that I didn't understand what happened with the Nogitsune before, but I do now. I get it, Stiles." Stiles shot his gaze away from Scott's face. Despite that, Scott continued. "I may not have went through near as much as you did, but I get it, man. I finally understand what hurting someone you love can do to you, even if it wasn't really you." Scott, too, lowered his eyes. "So if, you know, you ever want to talk about anything. Just know that I'll understand. Maybe not completely, but I can try."

Stiles finally met Scott's eyes with his once more, a small smile on his pale face. "Can we, like, cry on each other's shoulder, too? Maybe watch _The Notebook_, eat a bunch of chocolate—"

"_Stiles_."

He just threw his hands up in surrender, still smiling, but the look in his golden brown eyes told Scott all he needed to know.

Scott lightly punched his friend in the arm and began walking out into the desert, the sun already rising and bringing light into the world.

So maybe their lives weren't perfect. Okay, _far_ from perfect. But like Stiles said, they still had the freedom of choice to do things, change their future.

And there were definitely gonna be some changes made.

**A/N:** Hope ya'll liked it. Don't think I'll do anymore with this, but if you'd like me to, let me know. Also, write about your favorite bromance moments in the comments! I'd love to hear from ya'll. Hope you enjoyed it!

-**Kenxi**


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